Aw, Steph. I remember falling on ice and wrecking my knee and being more mortified by strangers having to help me up and to their car than I was bothered by the pain. I hope you heal up fast.

Ouch, Steph! Yikes.

I set up the bathroom, because it was easy. And hung stuff up, because I had to. Oh, and books, because they are also easy (my parents helped). Then my parents took me shopping and I got some curtains, and now I am Resting. Then I have to figure everything else out. It would be much easier for me to sleep on my old bed tonight, but I was planning to use my grandmother's old bedroom, and that bed is covered in crap. I guess I will figure that out next. And put on some music. But first, a little sitting. (I'm actually a little afraid to sit too much, or I will never get up!)

But the wifi works great! So that's something.

Ouch, Teppy! I'm glad you didn't take a full tumble onto the concrete.

In other news, I had an unpleasant interaction with someone and I'm still stewing over it. At the local art supply story, there's a long aisle up to the register filled with various magazines and impulse purchases. It's made fairly clear that's where you wait to be called to a register.

Anyhow, this lady brushes past me to stand right (as in about a foot) behind the person currently being waited on. I said "excuse me" and then she turned and asked if I wanted to go in front of her, all affronted. I pointed out that I was in line, and she said that I was standing about 10 feet back from the register, and she KEPT ON going about this as I was heading to be waited on, so I said never mind, and let her go ahead. She KEPT ON saying that I had been standing too far back, and my mom (who was waiting on the other side of the aisle), mutters "asshole."

THANKS FOR HELPING MOM. Then, the lady loudly says "you're both assholes." The cashier muttered an apology to me as I was checking out. Not to get too armchair psychologist about things, but the way she kept on going about my standing too far back from the register - even after I let her go ahead - seemed like perseveration on something that didn't fit her view of things. Anyhow, between not knowing how to deal with this lady, and my mom's oh-so-helpful comment, it wasn't a very fun trip to the art story.

You know, if you had accepted, and gone ahead of her -- she'd have still judged you. It is a no-win with an asshole like that, seriously.

Other people, man. Raised by...no, wolves have better manners. Let us not malign wolves. Wolverines? They're mannerless gits, right? Other people, raised by wolverines. Or badgers--they stink, right? So, raised by wolverines and badgers. Stupid other people. I'm sorry, Anne.

As was the stupid sidewalk and the treacherous ankle, and OW, Teppy. I'm so sorry. May the sorenesses ease up quickly and the incident be quickly forgotten (Nobody saw anything. You're fine).

H is STILL NOT HOME. He doesn't want me to come sit with him at the hospital, "You're just going to LOOK at me, and I don't want you to." IDEK. But, come on, ring, phone.

And I am so far past a mole check I don't even want to think about it. I come from mole people, evidently. At some point in the future the moles will have all grown together, I think. All benign, but...moley. I should start prospecting for an earth-sheltered residence, and become truly one with the mole people.

Babble. Sorry. Ah, he's ready to go. Release at last. Off to fetch him home. Thanks for the good thoughts. I love you guys.

I hope H's recovery goes smoothly, Bev, and that he is a good patient (for both your sakes).

Anyhow, I'm wishing I hadn't said anything at the art store, but what's done is done. I figure with the holidays coming up, more and more people will be Behaving Badly Under Pressure. I just don't want to wind up joining their numbers.

At the mall. Why the fuck are we at the mall.

At the mall. Why the fuck are we at the mall.

Turn around and run home!

Can't run. With in-laws. Contentious dinner with difficult family members later.